To See Magic
by Caelistis.Rydraline
Summary: Harry has been abused by the Dursleys all his life. Between Hagrid's visit in July, and his leaving for Hogwarts, it gets worse, and one of Harry's eyes is severely damaged. As it heals itself, it seems to change, and Harry finds he can 'see' magic.
1. Chapter 1

AN. Yes, I know, it's _another_ abused!Harry story. I'm _terribly_creative. I'm making it a different one, I promise! Aha. Please bear through the first part of this; I needed it to get to where I wanted to be.

Also: Just to throw this in as a warning again, there _will_ be child abuse in here.

To See Magic

Chapter 1: In which Harry discovers the Wizarding world.

He didn't understand. It made no sense for these letters to be for him. Who would write to him? He had been starting to wonder if it was Dudley; his cousin certainly enjoyed tormenting him. Harry glanced up at the fat boy sleeping on the couch across the room, who was scowling even in his sleep. That idea had been ruled out the very second that Dudley had been forced to miss his first television programme.

Harry wondered if the person – or people – sending the letters knew what they were doing to his uncle. He hoped it would stop soon. The letters were for him, so it was his fault they had to move around to try to get away from them. It was _Harry's_ fault that they were all freezing in this little house in the middle of the ocean. Shivering, Harry curled up more tightly under the thin blanket that Vernon had thought to throw at him earlier, and pressed himself into his corner.

Harry had almost fallen asleep, curled upright against the cold stone of the wall, when Dudley's watch began beeping. He jumped, then relaxed with a sigh, his breath misting in the dark.

Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beepbeep-BOOM!

Harry's head snapped up at the loud noise, banging against the wall and blinding him momentarily. He heard Dudley's whimper, followed by his heavy footsteps as the boy ran across the room. Rubbing his newest injury, Harry looked fearfully at the door, watching the thick wood shake as another 'boom' echoed around the house. Vernon and Petunia appeared in his peripheral vision, halting at the foot of the stairs. Harry tried to push himself farther into his corner when he saw the gun in his uncle's hands. Whatever was trying to get in was probably after him. This was just serving to remind him of the fact that the reason they were even here was his fault.

Harry's blood ran cold as the door fell flat on the ground, the hinges flying into the room, and a hulking figure squeezed through the opening. The Dursleys were silent around him as the intruder fitted the door back into place before turning to face his shocked audience.

"Evenin'," the giant said, walking over the couch. He pulled a box and an envelope from one of his enormous coat pockets, setting the former on the arm of the couch before looking around at the four people staring at him. "Funny place for a vacation," he said conversationally. "But I s'pose you muggles have a different taste in holidays than us. Differen' 'n _me_, at any rate. Now…" He scanned the room, quickly spotting Harry in the corner, and strode towards him. Harry jumped up, not wanting to seem impolite to this peculiar, and rather frightening, stranger.

"Well, hallo Harry. Haven' seen you fer a long while! Las' time I saw yeh, yeh were jus' a baby." He chuckled, and held out the envelope. It was identical to the ones that Harry's uncle had been refusing to let him see. He looked fearfully over at his uncle, unsure of what to do. Vernon's face was slowly turning red as he watched the giant.

"Well, go on," the giant said, holding the letter closer to Harry. With another glance at his furious uncle, Harry took it, hesitating only slightly before opening it.

"Who the devil do you think you are?" Vernon finally seemed to have found his voice, and was brandishing his gun at the giant.

"It seems that Harry here wasn' getting' any o' the letters sent t' him. The headmaster sen' me t' come along an' deliver his letter, an' take Harry down t' get his school supplies. Name's Hagrid, by the way," he added, looking back at Harry. "Are yeh gonna read that?" Harry looked down at the still folded letter in his hands and hurriedly opened it.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Harry looked up at the giant – his name was _Hagrid_ – in disbelief. What on earth was this about? A school of witchcraft and wizardry? Hagrid smiled at him encouragingly, and Harry returned his attention to the letter.

The farther he read, the more confused he became. By the time he was finished, he really had no idea what to think. On the one hand, this sounded like a joke: there wasn't really any such thing as magic, was there? Then again, there _had_ always been those strange incidents around him. The ones that had made his uncle fly into a rage the second they were out of sight of the public.

"I – I don't understand…" Harry looked from his uncle to Hagrid, hoping for someone to explain to him what on earth this all meant.

Hagrid looked surprised. "Yer a wizard, Harry. Yer name's been down for Hogwarts since yeh were born. Fines' school o' magic there is," he announced proudly.

Harry shook his head. If he were a wizard, he would be able to do things. He would be able to help his aunt and uncle, and not be so useless.

"No good denyin' it, Harry. Yer a wizard, jus' like yer parents. Reckon yeh'll be a good one, too, after yeh've been a' school fer a while. Speakin' o' which, we should probably get on our way ter get yer things."

Vernon looked like he was about to explode.

"Oh! An' I almost forgot t' wish yeh a 'happy birthday'!" Hagrid grinned down at him, and Harry managed a quiet 'thank you'. "I made yeh a cake, too!" he said proudly, turning back to the couch. Harry saw him stiffen as they both noticed Dudley bent over the couch, his hands and face inside the box.

Hagrid drew a long pink umbrella from his coat, pointing it at Harry's cousin. There was a little sound, and a light shot from the tip of the umbrella, straight at Dudley's bottom. The boy jumped as if shocked, his hands going straight to where a little pig's tail was poking through his pants. Petunia shrieked, rushing over to her son, Vernon following.

Hagrid turned back to Harry with a wink.

"Off we go, then, Harry," he said, moving towards the door. Harry glanced at his aunt and uncle, who were still huddled over Dudley, and hurried after the giant.

It took them just over two hours to actually get into Diagon Alley. Hagrid had sped up their travelling with his magic umbrella, and the trip hadn't taken that much time. Harry summoned up enough courage to ask the large man some questions on the way, and Hagrid had answered to the best of his ability. He had been furious to discover that the Dursleys had told him nothing of his parents, or the world they had belonged to. When Harry had asked for information about his parents, Hagrid had reluctantly told him about their deaths, and Voldemort. Hagrid had seemed quite relieved when the questioning ended, after that.

Although Hagrid had told Harry that he was considered famous in the Wizarding world, Harry hadn't really though much of it. He hadn't understood how he could be famous in a world he had never known about.

But when they had entered the Leaky Cauldron, they found themselves surrounded by people.

Harry didn't like crowds; he hated the feeling of all the people moving so close to him. But usually, if he found himself in a crowd, he wasn't really noticed by anyone. This time, however, he was the _cause_ of the crowd. As the various witches and wizards came over to get a better look at him, or to shake his hand, or just wish him the best in life, Harry found himself backed up against Hagrid, wishing he were somewhere else. Unfortunately, Hagrid didn't seem to notice Harry's distress, and waited until the crowd had died down somewhat before excusing the two of them.

Now that they were in the Alley, however, Harry had practically forgotten about that. He'd virtually forgotten about the Dursleys! Everything was just so…incredible.

Store windows were filled with colourful items that Harry had never seen the like of, owls soared overhead, and nearly everyone was dressed in robes. Harry watched as a young child hovered on a small broomstick outside of a store as his mother spoke to an employee.

Hagrid had taken Harry to Gringotts before anything else, promising to let him look around as much as he liked afterwards. And he had. After the two of them had gotten out of the never-ending maze that was the bank (and away from the goblins, to Harry's relief), Hagrid had really just been following Harry as they made their way down the alley. When they passed a store that Harry needed something from, the giant would speak up about it, bringing him inside. Harry didn't mind at all. He had been uncomfortable about leading the way, at first, but his curiosity had soon taken over.

As he approached Ollivanders, Hagrid stopped his commentary on the Alley for a moment.

"Tell yeh what, Harry. Go get yer wand, an' I'll meet yeh back here. Need t' get somethin' else."

Harry nodded, though he felt uncomfortable being left alone.

Hagrid walked off, and Harry pulled open the door of the narrow shop. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he looked around nervously. The poorly lit store seemed to be completely empty, and smelled of dust and wood.

"Er – excuse me?" Harry called out uncertainly as he approached the front desk.

"Mr. Potter. At last." Harry whipped around to see a skeletal man slip out from one of the rows of tall shelves. Rather taken aback at being addressed by his name, Harry watched silently as the man – Ollivander, presumably – turned to a shelf, searching through the hundreds of boxes he had stacked upon it. After a while, he appeared to have chosen one, pulling it out carefully, and removing a thin wand, which he held out to Harry.

Harry took the wand, unsure of what was going on. He didn't really know what went on when buying a wand. It wasn't really something he'd thought about.

Ollivander snatched the wand back from him, muttering to himself. Harry waited rather uncomfortably as the man searched his boxes again. The process was repeated several times, until Ollivander eventually sent a sly look at Harry, pulling a box out of a drawer in his desk.

When Harry took _this_ wand, he felt it. It was like there was energy buzzing through the wood. The wandmaker had a satisfied smile as he looked Harry over this time. "I'd been wondering who that wand would choose," he said. "It is interesting that it would choose you, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked at him curiously, wanting to know more, but too shy to ask.

"The phoenix whose feather is in this wand gave one other feather. I sold that wand to one Tom Riddle. I suppose it only makes sense for his wand's brother to choose you, as he marked you with his own already." Harry froze as Ollivander reached out, brushing the long fringe away from his oldest scar. Abruptly, the man turned away, moving back to the other side of the desk.

"Now, Mr. Potter, that will be seven galleons." It took a moment for Harry to figure out where the conversation had gone, but quickly paid the man, feeling quite relieved to finally be leaving.

Hagrid was waiting outside the shop for him, holding a large cage with a beautiful Snowy owl. He held it out to Harry.

"As that cousin o' yers ate the cake I made yeh, I figured I'd get yeh a birthday present. Can' have yeh at Hogwarts without an owl."

Harry stared at the man, shocked. This was a present for him? He'd barely known Hagrid for a day. He took the cage after a moment, stuttering his thanks. Hagrid beamed at him.

"S'pose I'd best get yeh back t' yer aunt and uncle, though, Harry," Hagrid said, looking up at the clock that hung above a store that sold magical timepieces.

The world seemed to freeze around him. He had to go back? He hadn't realized…

Harry felt his heart beginning to race as the reality of the situation hit him. The Dursleys would be furious. And with Dudley's tail… There wouldn't be a magic wielding giant to shield him, either.

Harry's dread grew as they made their way back through the Alley and into the muggle London. He barely responded to Hagrid, but the large man only mentioned cheerfully that he was probably just getting tired from being out all day.

When they finally returned to Privet Drive, Hagrid wheeled Harry's trunk up to the door for him before resting his huge hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Remember, Harry, if they try to give yeh trouble, just tell 'em I'll pay 'em a visit." Harry just nodded. He wouldn't. Why would he? He had no way of contacting Hagrid – an owl was all well and good, but if you had nothing to send, and no idea where to send it anyway, it wasn't much help. His uncle Vernon would know it was an empty threat. He knew everything.

"Well, Harry, I have t' be off. Dumbledore'll want t' be seein' me. I'll see yeh on yer firs' day o' school, then." Hagrid wrapped Harry in a bone-crushing hug, and Harry swallowed the small cry of pain that had threatened to escape as the giant man's arms pressed against his various injuries.

With that, the man walked back towards the giant motorcycle across the street. As the engine roared, Harry turned back to the house, his fear rising. Just as he grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage, the front door swung open. Vernon stood in the doorway, his expression livid. Harry froze, not daring to move until his uncle jerked his head, indicating he wanted the boy inside. Head bowed, Harry pulled his trunk inside behind him.

Harry had barely set Hedwig's cage down at the foot of the stairs when the first blow came. Unprepared, he stumbled forwards with a cry, sending a glass topped end table crashing to the floor. The next few blows pushed him to the ground, and Harry barely heard his uncle's furious shouting; there was blood on the carpet already from where he had landed on the broken glass.

His face was pushed to the ground, and he couldn't keep quiet anymore as a large piece of glass raked across his closed eye. It hurt far more than what his uncle was doing, while he shouted at Harry to be quiet, that the neighbours would hear if he didn't stop crying. Harry tried to silence his panicked cries, but even when Vernon finally ceased to kick him and dragged roughly him upright, he continued to draw in noisy breaths, one hand clutched over his injured eye, the other pressed close to his chest. The only thing he could think of was that his eyes were important, and he had just ruined one of them. He _needed_ his eyes.

**OoO**

When his aunt rapped on his cupboard door the next morning, Harry woke to pain. His entire body ached, and his wrist and lower back throbbed painfully as he moved. It was nothing compared to the fire burning over his right eye, though. Harry lifted his hand to it, only to discover that it was badly swollen. His left eye was only half open, pulled closed slightly by the unopened right one. Harry tried opening the injured one experimentally, but stopped before it had opened more than a slit, not wanting to increase the pain any more than that had.

"Open your eyes, boy!" Petunia scolded when he slipped into the kitchen. Harry did so briefly, trying to ignore the pain of opening his still wounded eye fully. His aunt strode across the kitchen, taking his chin roughly to get him to face her. "_Open your eyes_!" she hissed. When he complied once more, she gasped, stepping back as if he had contracted something contagious. She stared at him, shock and disgust written clearly on her face, and Harry shrunk back, aware that he had done something wrong again, but unsure of _what_.

"What did you _do_? You little freak, _what did you do_?"

Harry reached up to his eye, touching the swollen lid gingerly. "I – I cut it. L-last night. I'm sorry!"

"You did that just to make things difficult for us, didn't you? You ungrateful little - " Petunia cut herself off, turning back to the kitchen as she tried to compose herself. "Just make the breakfast and get back to your cupboard," she said eventually. With that she left the room, not looking at Harry once.

Feeling confused and guilty, Harry set about preparing breakfast for the Dursleys. When he filled up the kettle, he took a look at himself in the mirror that hung over the sink.

His right eye _was_ quite swollen, and the cut reached from the bridge of his nose and diagonally across his eye. After a quick moment to prepare himself, Harry forced himself to open it. He was confused by what he saw. The iris was now a pale blue, instead of the brilliant green it had been, and a white star-like shape reached out from the centre of his pupil.

For a moment, Harry wondered if eyes normally healed like that, but began mentally berating himself for thinking something so silly when his aunt's reaction clearly showed it _wasn't_ normal. Letting his eye close again, Harry returned to preparing breakfast, most of his thoughts occupied by trying to figure out what he could have done to make his eye like this.

**OoO**

That month was the worst that Harry had spent at the Dursleys'. Although Dudley seemed content to stay away from him for the most part, his uncle was far more violent than normal, often flying into a rage without warning. His aunt had him working in the house around the clock, only occasionally sending him out back to do yard work. Neither of them ever sent him out to the front of the house, now. Harry supposed it had something to do with whatever he'd done to his eye.

**OoO**

It was August thirty-first, and Harry was, for once, left alone in his cupboard. His aunt was out with her friends, as was Dudley, and Uncle Vernon didn't want anything to do with him.

Harry looked at the ticket in his hands. Platform nine and three quarters. September 1st. Tomorrow. He smiled, his excitement rekindled now that he really was going to be going off to school.

A thought struck him, and Harry slipped out of his cupboard nervously. He needed to get to the train tomorrow. He would have to ask his uncle.

Vernon was sitting in the living room reading the paper, a cup of coffee in one hand.

"U-uncle Vernon?" Harry paused for a moment, trying to compose himself. His uncle hated it when he stuttered. "I – I need to get down the train station to get to – to get to Hogwarts tomorrow…"

Vernon scowled at him, then turned back to the newspaper. "We'll drop you off. Taking Dudley to the hospital to get that damned tail removed, or I wouldn't bother," he growled.

"Thank – thank you, uncle."

His uncle grunted, and Harry darted out of the room. He returned the ticket to his cupboard, then tiptoed upstairs to Dudley's second bedroom, where Hedwig and his school things were being kept.

Harry sat on his trunk as he fed his owl. He smiled at the snowy bird for a while, before returning his attention to the trunk.

He had noticed the strange bronze shimmer around it the day after he had returned to the Dursleys'. It had worried him at first, but Hedwig hadn't seemed bothered by it, and so he had soon gotten over it. He had decided that it was probably due to the enchantments that the wizard in the shop had been talking about. He didn't really know why it hadn't showed up when he had gotten it, but figured that the spell probably took a day or two to take effect.

**OoO**

Vernon had let Harry out of the car in front of King's Cross without a word, speeding away the moment that Harry had closed the door behind him.

The train station was filled with people. They rushed from place to place, hardly paying attention to those around them. Harry looked down at his things, feeling comforted by the soft bronze shimmer around the trunk, and the fearless look in Hedwig's eyes.

He continued down the station, counting the platforms as he passed them. Seven, eight, nine…and ten. Harry paused between the two. Nine and three quarters, wasn't that where he was supposed to be? But it wasn't there.

Feeling more than a little worried, Harry moved down between platforms nine and ten, looking for some sort of sign telling him where he could find _his_ platform. He glanced at the people milling around him, hoping that _someone_ would be dressed like him, or carrying the same sort of luggage. Even just an owl. It was the wall ahead of him that caught his attention, however. Though much brighter, it had the same sort of shimmer around it that his trunk had. Instead of the bronze colouring, though, it was a sort of reddish pink, and seemed to swirl in the air. Harry imagined that it looked like what stardust would.

He approached the shimmering bricks, guessing that if the shimmer of his trunk _did_ mean it was enchanted, then that probably meant that wall was, too. And if something was magic in a place like this, _surely_ it would lead to the platform? Or at least help him find it, at any rate.

Harry reached out to touch the wall, his hand moving through the magic and then through the very bricks of the wall. He yanked his hand back, heart racing. After taking a moment to calm down, he tried again, this time pushing his whole hand into the wall.

He glanced around at the crowds of people, wondering if anyone had noticed. None of them seemed to…

Harry pulled his hand back, and wheeled his luggage around. If he pushed it through the wall, and it didn't hit anything, then maybe he could go through as well. He moved it forwards slowly, not meeting the resistance of the wall like he had still expected. Eventually he had reached the handles, and with a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and followed his trunk through the wall.

After a few steps, Harry opened one eye, praying that he wouldn't see…well, the inside of the wall. To his relief, he found himself in a completely new area, surrounded by people, and a huge, shining red train to his left.

In contrast to the subdued chatter of the muggle train station, platform nine and three quarters was full of a bustling energy. Voices were loud and happy as they mixed with the warm light around them. It seemed that most of them had a faint shimmer as well, though nothing as strong even as his trunk's. The colours varied from reds and yellows to greens and blues, occasionally matching the colour of an object near them.

"Do you need any help?" a voice beside Harry asked. He turned to see a tall girl with long braided hair. "You look a little lost. Are you a first year?" He nodded, glancing around at the platform again. The girl smiled at him, and gently put her had on his shoulder. "My name's Ann, I'm a prefect at Hogwarts. I'll help you around here, okay?"

Harry moved with her into the crowds, glad that he had someone to show him what was going on.

"Are you meeting anyone here?" Ann asked as she stopped them beside a multi-levelled cart. It was filled with cages of owls.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know anyone," he admitted.

"That's all right. Plenty of first years don't know anyone else. I'm sure you'll make friends soon. Now, you should leave your owl here."

Harry looked at Hedwig, waiting until she gave a soft hoot before he moved her cage to the others. He looked back over at Ann, who was gazing at Hedwig.

"That's a beautiful owl you have," she said, guiding him along the train again. "All right, now we just have to get your trunk over to all the luggage, and you'll be good to go!"

OoO

Harry sat uncomfortably in an empty compartment, staring out at the scenery rushing past, and plucking at the long sleeve of his robes. He'd worn them so he wouldn't stand out as much, but it seemed as if most of the students were all wearing everyday muggle clothing. Then again, the old clothes that he had probably would have attracted attention anyway. Even ignoring the fact that they were about seven times too big for him, they were in fairly terrible condition. It didn't really matter much when he was at the Dursleys.

The compartment door slid open, and a freckle-faced boy with red hair stepped inside. He looked at Harry appraisingly for a moment.

"D'you mind if I sit with you? I was trying to find someone, but..." Harry shrugged, and the boy slid the door shut behind him.

The redhead sat across from Harry, pulling a rat from his pocket. He extended his empty hand to Harry. "Ron Weasley."

Harry shook it uncomfortably. "Harry Potter." Weasley's eyes lit up, and he leaned forwards, staring at Harry openly.

"Seriously? You're Harry _Potter_?" Harry nodded, keeping his eyes low. This seemed uncomfortably close to what had happened in the Leaky Cauldron. "D'you have the, well, you know…" He looked meaningfully at Harry, who could only look back blankly. With a tone that implied he was mildly annoyed and embarrassed at having to say it aloud, Weasley continued, "The _scar_." Harry was silent for a moment. He had lots of scars. The cut on his eye was already almost one, especially now that the swelling had gone. He lifted his hand to push his fringe away, though, thinking of the one scar that his aunt and uncle seemed to have despised. The lighting bolt on his forehead.

Weasley sat back with an impressed grin. "That's _wicked_." He continued to stare at Harry's forehead, though the black hair was covering the scar once more. He opened his mouth again, seemed to think about what he was about to say, but continued anyway, asking, "Do you remember it?"

"Remember what?" Harry was starting to regret letting Weasley sit with him.

"When You-Know-Who, you know…" Harry sat puzzled for a moment before he remembered Hagrid calling his parents' murderer by the same name. He shook his head, wondering why on earth the redhead wanted to know something like that.

Weasley looked rather disappointed for a moment, but soon turned his attention to Harry's eye. "Did'ja get into a fight, or something, Harry?"

Harry frowned, wishing someone would come along and say that the train ride was almost over.

"I tripped. Fell into a table corner," he said quietly, looking away.

Harry thanked whatever Gods there were when the compartment door slid open just as Weasley was beginning another question. A girl stood in the doorway, also already wearing her school robes. She peered into the corners of the compartment.

"Have either of you two seen a toad?" she asked. Weasley shook his head, his expression clearly stating that he couldn't care less.

"I'm sorry, I haven't either," Harry said. The girl frowned slightly.

"Well, if you _do_ happen to see it, a boy called Neville is looking for it."

"I – I'll help you look, if you'd like," Harry offered quietly, standing as she moved to leave. He hoped she wouldn't turn him away; he desperately wanted to get away from the red haired boy across from him.

The girl brightened visibly. "That would be wonderful!" Before Harry could say or do anything, she had grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the compartment.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she said, releasing his hand as she approached another door.

"Er, I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he said it quickly and quietly, hoping that she wouldn't gawk at him like Weasley had.

"Really?" Hermione looked over at him, eyes wide. "I've read _so_ much about you!" She didn't stare at him, though, which Harry was exceptionally thankful for, but turned her attention back to the compartment before them. As the witch walked unashamedly into the older students' conversation, Harry noticed a small movement near the door of the train car. With a glance at Hermione, he walked over, kneeling before the dark toad. He picked it up gently, and walked back over to where Hermione was closing the door of the compartment.

"Is this the toad?" he asked. The bushy-haired witch hurried over to him, examining the creature.

"I _think_ so, but I can't really say for sure. I don't know how many toads there could be running around loose on one train, though. Let's go find Neville. He should know."

"Trevor!" a voice exclaimed as she turned. A round-faced boy was hurrying towards them, his relief evident. He gratefully took the toad from Harry, stroking it as it let out a deep croak. "Thanks for helping me find him."

"It's no trouble," Hermione said brightly as Harry ducked his head shyly.

A hand appeared before Harry, and he looked up at the boy before him. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Harry Potter."

Neville didn't seem as shocked as Hermione had to learn who Harry was, though he was clearly impressed. "Gran talks about you all the time. She said that Dumbledore sent you to live with muggles, even though there were loads of magical families that would have taken you in." Neville frowned slightly as he thought about it. "No one was too happy with Dumbledore about that."

"Well, I'm sure he had a reason for it." The two boys looked over at Hermione. "He _is_ called one of the greatest wizards of the age. I doubt if he does anything without a good reason."

Neville appeared content with that reasoning, and Harry nodded, hoping he didn't look as doubtful as he felt. He _would_ like to think there was a good reason for why he was living with the Dursleys.

"Could you guys please find somewhere to sit?" the three of them turned to see Ann a little ways down the hallway. "We'll be arriving soon."

"Do you have anything in the compartment you were in, Harry?" Hermione asked him as the prefect walked off. He shook his head, dreading returning to the redhead and his questions. "Why don't you join us, then? It's not like there's that much time left, but you might as well. Unless you don't want to, of course."

Harry looked up at her gratefully. "You wouldn't mind?" Hermione shook her head, smiling, and glanced at Neville. He shrugged.

"You can come if you'd like, I don't mind."

OoOoOoOoO

I know that this chapter was full of 'this happened in the book!' stuff, but I couldn't really just jump into this without it. But Harry _does_ get his…eye. ^.^

Your thoughts on this, dear readers?

Yours 'till death,

Caelistis.


	2. Chapter 2

To See Magic

Chapter 2: In which Harry is properly introduced to Hogwarts.

Neville was fairly quiet when the three had reached the compartment. Harry caught him examining his eye more than once, though the boy always ducked his head, or looked out the window when he realized. Harry almost wanted him to just ask what had happened, but at the same time, was glad he didn't. He didn't want to have to explain anything. He doubted they would want to be friends with him if they knew.

Hermione was cheerfully leading a conversation on what Hogwarts would be like. Harry tried to add his opinions in, but he didn't really know enough about the school to say much. Neville was able to give some input, though he often seemed to be relaying what his gran had said to him.

"Harry? Do you think I could see your glasses for a minute?" Hermione asked. Slightly confused, Harry reached up, removing his glasses and handing them to the witch.

Harry's glasses had had a tiny crack down one lens ever since the night he had hurt his eye. Really, he had been lucky that was all that had happened to them. He still wasn't completely sure what had happened, though. He remembered them falling off when he hit the floor, and he found them on the ground beside him in his cupboard when he woke.

Hermione pulled her wand out, holding the tip to the crack. She closed her eyes for a moment, her lips moving as she recited something mentally. With a little nod, she opened them again, looking down at the glasses.

"I've been practicing some simple spells at home," she explained, noticing Harry's curious look. "And to be honest, the crack in these has been bothering me. _Reparo_!" A few sparks shot from her wand, flying to the broken glass. When it repaired itself before their eyes, Hermione beamed.

As she handed them back, Harry saw her looking inquisitively at his eye. Her self-restraint was clearly coming to an end. He lowered his gaze, wishing yet again that he hadn't done…well, whatever it was he had done to it. As he put his glasses back on, Harry waited uncomfortably for her questioning. Harry doubted if Hermione would accept his weak excuse for his eye's condition. She would probably know that eyes didn't heal like that.

"So, what house do you guys think you'll be in?" Neville's sudden query surprised Harry, and he looked up at the boy. He seemed to be looking anywhere but Harry. Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before answering.

"I think I'd like to be in Ravenclaw. From what I've read, they seem to take learning very seriously. Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't really know that much about them…"

"I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff," Neville said with a sigh. Hermione turned to him.  
>"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?"<p>

Neville shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose. But that's just where everyone else goes. I mean, the brave ones go to Gryffindor, the smart ones to Ravenclaw, and the cunning and ambitious ones go to Slytherin. Hufflepuff is just the house for…the leftovers, I guess."

OoO

When the train stopped, Hermione leapt up, only barely waiting for the other two before they all left the train.

As the students milled around the platform, Harry saw a familiar giant man standing a ways away.

"Firs' years, over here!"

"He certainly is _big_, isn't he?" Hermione observed, looking at Hagrid. "Well, shall we go?"

Neville nodded, though he looked a bit leery, and after a moment, Harry nodded as well.

He didn't really want to see Hagrid again, at the moment. Though he would never admit it, there _was_ a part of him that blamed the man for what had happened at the Dursleys upon his return. The large man unnerved him as well, though Harry wasn't entirely sure why, given that he had been nothing less than friendly to him.

To Harry's dismay, Hagrid noticed him the moment the three of them joined the crowd of first years.

"Blimey, Harry, when'd that happen?" the man asked, leaning down as he peered at Harry's face. Harry looked down.

"Early August. I don't know why it did that, though," he said quietly, hoping that would deter any further questioning. Hagrid continued to look for a moment before straightening with a smile.

"'S just yer magic, Harry. It affects everyone differently, an' yer no exception." Even without looking around, Harry knew that everyone was staring at him. He wished he could disappear. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see another small group join them as the last of the older students left.

"Well, looks like everyone. All right, follow me, then, everyone! An' stay close. Don't wan' teh lose anyone."

Harry wondered what would happen if they _didn't_ have all the first years… He supposed they _could_ just go along with the rest of the students; he wasn't sure why they all seemed to be going a different direction than where Hagrid was leading them.

Harry could see a huge dome around the castle, the magic shimmering faintly in the night. He felt slightly nervous as they approached it, worrying a little that something would happen when they passed through it. No one else seemed worried, though…In fact, as he looked around at them, it seemed like no one else was paying much attention to it. Many students were staring into the water, leaning precariously over the sides of their boats as they looked into the dark, glassy water. Others were staring up at the castle, their gazes clearly not on the golden barrier that was practically on top of them.

He let out a tiny sigh of relief as it passed over them. He hadn't even felt anything. Finally, Harry turned his attention properly to the giant castle looming over them.

OoO

Harry walked with Hermione and Neville as the stern Scottish professor lead them through the halls. The first years hadn't even had time to talk amongst themselves before she'd shown up. She'd introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, explained to them the basics of the school, told them what was expected of them when they reached the Great Hall, and then instructed them to follow her.

Harry quite liked the witch, so far. She seemed very orderly, and although she didn't look or sound like one to tolerate stupid mistakes, Harry found he felt safe around her.

"Well, _he's_ an interesting looking one!" a voice said. Harry turned to his left, surprised by the sudden adult's voice. At first he saw no one, only a blue shimmer to the portraits hanging on the wall there. He realized that the portraits weren't what he was used to at what seemed like the exact same moment as about half the group. Although he was quick to keep walking behind Professor McGonagall, Harry stared at the enchanted portraits they passed, hardly believing that they were moving. And talking!

"That's _amazing_!" Hermione exclaimed, clutching onto his arm. "I never thought – I mean, I know our schoolbooks have _some_, but still!" Neville chuckled, clearly nowhere near as amazed as the two of them were.

As they progressed through the halls, Harry began to notice more and more of the magic's shimmer. The ancient suits of armour they passed had just the barest glimmer of blue, and the stones of the castle itself almost seemed to have a golden brown sparkle to them, fading in and out with the light of the torches.

Upon entering the Great Hall, Harry was dazzled. Among the striped banners that hung from beams overhead, the night sky was stretched, stars mixed in among the emerald sparkles of it's magic. Candles were suspended mid-air in clouds of shimmering red.

Harry was beginning to worry that the shimmer of the magic would give him a headache, and the prickling in his scar wasn't the most encouraging sign.

The first years all huddled together as Professor McGonagall walked to the very front of the hall, positioning herself beside a ragged hat perched on a stool. The sorting hat she had spoke of, presumably.

After unrolling a scroll pulled from her robes, the professor called out "Abbot, Hannah!" Harry watched as the girl walked to the front, visibly shaking. He didn't envy her at all; he doubted if he would make it up there if he were first.

McGonagall set the hat on her head, and when nothing immediately happened, the other first years began muttering to each other. Beside him, Harry could hear Hermione whispering to herself to calm down.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Harry jumped at the sudden exclamation, which was followed by cheers and applause from the black and yellow adorned table.

The names kept coming, moving steadily through the alphabet. He watched nervously as Hermione was called and sorted. She waved shyly at him as she darted to the Ravenclaw table. Neville was next to go, and was put into Gryffindor house. Even from where he stood, Harry could see the boy's relief at being spared Hufflepuff.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder, a voice following soon after. "So you're Harry Potter?"

He turned to see a blonde boy looking at him curiously. His expression changed to one of shock and slight confusion as Harry met his eyes, though. "Why's your-"

"Malfoy, Draco!" The boy frowned as the witch called out, interrupting him, and strode to the front.

The hat sat on his head for a few moments before calling out "Slytherin!" With a glance back at Harry, Malfoy headed over to the cheering green and silver table. Harry returned to waiting nervously for his own name to be called.

When "Potter, Harry," was called out, Harry jumped, and tried to walk calmly to the front, his heart racing. He didn't quite realize his head was down as he sat in front of the school, keeping his eyes on the floor. Whispers swept towards him, the voices unashamedly curious. They were deadened when the sorting hat was dropped over his head, though, and the hat's voice seemed to speak directly into his mind.

"_Hm…Harry Potter. I've certainly heard a great deal about _you._ Although, it would seem that many of us have been misinformed…"_

Harry cringed slightly, shame filling him. The hat likely spoke with Dumbledore. Now the headmaster would know how much of a worthless freak he was. What if he decided that Harry wasn't good enough to stay at the school? He wished that the hat would sort him; he just wanted to sit down and disappear.

"_You have many qualities of all the houses,"_ the hat mused, _"And it's always so difficult to sort them all…" _Harry was starting to feel like the hat was talking to itself, now, which made him feel even more uncomfortable.

"But I'll narrow it down. So, Gryffindor or Slytherin? You would fit well in both of those opposing houses…Hm… Let's see how you do in – "

"GRYFFINDOR." The sudden loudness of the hat's voice startled Harry, and he slipped off the stool the second the hat was removed, darting to the lions' table and keeping his eyes down. He spotted Ann, and after a moment's hesitation, took the empty spot beside her.

OoOoOoOoO

AN: All right! Time for me to talk about things! Ahaha. It's a bit short, I know, but I'm not completely satisfied with what would have been the other half of this, and I wanted to post something for you.

Well, that was rather exciting. ^.^ I don't think I've gotten reviews on something so quickly. Merci beaucoup! (But anonymous replies make me kinda sad…I can't reply…)

In regards to people not seeming to notice Harry's eyes: for one thing, most of the people at the platform weren't really looking at him. So, people in general just hadn't noticed. Yes, I know, it's blue, and his other eye is green. I'm not saying _no_ _one_ noticed. Just no one who was obvious about it.

Another thing I'd like to mention, because it's never –really- going to come up, I suppose, is that Ann is my lovely badger hiding in with the lions. So, if she displays slightly more Hufflepuff-y traits, that's why. ^.^

Also: the underage magic that was brought up in here _will_ be explained, I promise. Just wait, dear readers. The colours Harry sees will also be important. I'm not just throwing them in for the hell of it, I promise.

Anyway, sorry it took so long. XD I'm just utterly incapable of writing these in a linear fashion. -_- Ah well. Aha. (Also, my apologies for the rambling note, here. ^.^)

Yours 'till death,

Caelistis.


	3. Chapter 3

To See Magic

Chapter 3: In which Harry sees the first of Hogwarts' madness.

OoOoOoOoO

It wasn't until all the first years had been sorted and Harry heard the headmaster clear his throat that he looked away from his hands.

The man was tall; something that his rich, flowing robes, and long silver hair only accentuated. Harry thought he was a very impressive figure right up until –

"Nitwit, oddment, blubber, tweak!"

At that point, he found himself rather concerned that such a man was in charge of a school. And one with a supposedly dangerous _something_ on the third floor, at that. That wasn't something that people did in those sorts of positions, Harry was sure. Still, he supposed, there _were_ the other teachers. Unless they were just as mad as the headmaster. Professor McGonagall hadn't seemed mad, though, when she'd been showing them all inside…

With a burst of golden sparkles, food appeared on the tables. Harry stared, awestruck. He'd never seen so much food in his life. Around him, students were already filling their plates; the Weasley boy sat across from him, his plate practically overflowing.

Harry reached out, shyly helping himself to a little of the chicken in front of him.

As he began to eat, a roar of laughter came from down the table. Harry glanced over to see a pair of redheaded twins (more Weasleys?) wiping their eyes as someone across from them continued to speak.

While he ate, Harry snuck looks at the others at the table, trying to see what kind of people his house-mates were. Hermione and Neville had both said it was the house of the brave, but Harry didn't really know what that would mean about the people themselves.

From what he saw through the meal, they were a loud lot, keen on enjoying the company of their friends. He rather wanted to look around at the other tables, but didn't want people to notice him twisting around in his seat to do so.

Harry had finished eating a fair while before the food abruptly vanished from the table. Students began to rise, moving off in clusters.

"Gryffindor first-years! To me, please!" Harry saw a tall, red-haired boy standing near the head of the table. Ann rose beside him, chuckling, and walked over to him. As the other first-years rose, Harry followed suit, keeping just to the edge of the small group. "My name is Percy Weasley, and this is Ann Dale. We are the Gryffindor prefects. If you'll follow us, we'll take you to the dormitory."

As they walked after the prefects, Harry kept his eyes on his surroundings, trying desperately not to let himself be distracted by the portraits speaking alongside them, or the occasional ghost floating past, or the stairs –

"Yes, everyone, please be careful: the staircases like to move." Harry wasn't the only one who felt somewhat uncomfortable with this, even with their prefect's dismissive voice, if the voices of the others were anything to go by.

"Do – do you think anyone's fallen off before?" Neville asked him in a hushed voice. With a quick glace over the railing, Harry turned back to him, shrugging helplessly. He sincerely hoped there was some sort of spell preventing it.

But aside from a fear of falling to his death, Harry realized that moving staircases would make it even more difficult to navigate his way around the castle. He was starting to wonder if madness was just a trait attached to the entirety of Hogwarts, the building and staff alike. It wasn't the most comforting thought.

Their prefects eventually stopped them before an enormous portrait of a fat woman in a _very_ pink dress. The first years whispered among themselves as the woman looked over them all until Ann spoke.

"This is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The password to get in is 'Ursa Major'. It's a bit different, I know, but it's not as easy for the other houses to guess, hey?"

"The password is liable to change multiple times throughout the year," Percy said. "However you will be notified when it does. If you find that you cannot remember the password, find another one of your house-mates."

With Ann rolling her eyes at him, Percy spoke the password, stepping through the hole left by the portrait when it swung away from the wall.

"Now, the password _is_ designed to keep other houses _out_ of the Gryffindor common room; they all have their own, as well."

"That isn't to say that you can't have friends from other houses over," Ann said. "But the passwords are for Gryffindors only, all right?" Sounds of general agreement came from the group, and with a smile, Ann stepped out of their way.

Harry's first impression of the Gryffindor common room was that it was busy. The warm colouring of everything gave a very lively feel to the place, and students of all ages were hanging around about the room, chatting.

"This way, please." Harry kept close to Neville as the small group of first years followed the prefects through the room.

The pair stopped at the entrance to two stairways.  
>"This is the way to your dorm rooms," Ann began, looking at Weasley to continue.<p>

"Given that you're first years, you'll take the first floor rooms. As you progress through your years here, you'll move up the tower. Boys, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your rooms."

"Girls, you're with me," Ann said with a smile, as Harry moved with the rest of the boys after Weasley.

The circular room was far quieter, and the lighting was dim. Their trunks were already set up beside the large four-poster beds. Harry couldn't quite believe that this was a room just for them.

He moved towards his own things along with the others, gazing at the large, warm-coloured bed. His was nearest the door on the right, with Neville on the opposite side of it.

"Potter?" Harry turned uncertainly to the red-haired prefect at the door. "If you're wearing some sort of muggle contact lens, I'm going to need you to take it out."

"It's not – my eye's just – just… like that." Harry stuttered. Surely he wouldn't report him to professor McGonagall, thinking he was lying. Percy raised an eyebrow.

"I – I hurt it. A while ago. And it did this. I didn't mean to. Ha- Hagrid says it's just my magic…" Harry said quickly. Percy reddened.  
>"Ah. Sorry, Potter. It's just that <em>some<em> students go to great lengths to get attention," he huffed irritably. "If any of you have any questions, feel free to find myself or Miss Dale," he said, raising his voice to address them all. When they nodded, he turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

OoO

It took a little while, but eventually they all had gotten their things organized and changed into pyjamas. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, examining its curtains.

"Night, Harry." Neville was looking over at him, almost settled into bed.

"Er, goodnight, Neville," he replied, glancing around the rest of the room before slipping under the covers himself. It was strange, having such a fancy bed all to himself. It was incredibly comfortable.

The chatter of the others soon died, and Harry lay in bed, staring at the dark material above him as he thought about what Neville had said earlier. _Had_ there been other families that had wanted him? Magical ones?

He frowned, turning onto his side. It didn't mean anything. Even if they had wanted him, it was because he was _famous_. If they knew what he was like, they would never want him. Harry felt tears prickling in his eyes as the imagined faces of his would-be guardians appeared in his thoughts, angry disappointment etched onto their features.

He wondered again why the hat had put him in Gryffindor, of all places. He certainly wasn't that brave, or heroic… Maybe the hat had wanted to help him, if it knew how horrible he was. Maybe it thought that by putting him in Gryffindor, it would make him … better.

OoOoOoOoO

Ahaha, added some bits into this! Nothing terribly exciting, but still. ^.^


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Before we start, I'd like to say that I've added a bit to the ending of Chapter 3! I had planned on just putting it at the beginning here, but then realized that that would be silly. XP So, it's at the end of last chapter. Sorry! There are also some minor additions to it throughout.

To See Magic

Chapter 4: In which Harry finds things aren't quite as he expected.

OoOoOoOoO

The first week of classes was nothing like what he had expected. Back in elementary, Harry had heard people talk about how when they left they would have classes in different rooms, and with different teachers, so _that_ part of it hadn't been entirely unexpected, though it certainly was odd. The professors all seemed to be more concerned about the students on the whole than his previous teachers, as well. Not the first years quite so much, but Harry had noticed that they called students in the halls by name, and the friendlier professors would approach students for a simple hello.

The first day had been more than a little scary, as well as just downright uncomfortable. Getting to classes had proven difficult (the moving stairs _had_ proved to be an obstacle), though he and Neville had gotten everywhere on time, to Harry's relief. Harry endured more 'looks' and whispers in the hallways, and the occasional uncomfortable questions about his eye. To his relief, though, most of the professors seemed to have decided that they _didn't_ need to stand up and introduce themselves as they had in elementary, and Harry was pleased that he seemed to have most of his classes with Hermione, at least.

The third day had confirmed to Harry that Professor Snape was unkind to the student population on the whole, and he felt less worried about the glares and snide remarks from the teacher. He responded with sarcasm and irritated dismissal when _anyone_ messed up in his class, be it in question or in practice.

The classes themselves were strange, as well, although Harry wasn't entirely sure if it was the way they were taught, or simply the fact that they were being taught magic. The absence of classes like Math and English was odd, as were the times when a professor demonstrated something that went completely against the rules of what he'd thought possible. Like when Professor McGonagall had transformed into a cat, for instance.

Harry enjoyed the rigid structure of Professor McGonagall's class. Charms _had_ been fun after a while, but the open-endedness of the class made him uncomfortable. When the little professor had set them off on their practice with barely more than an instruction on pronunciation, Harry had been a little alarmed. Especially when, a few seats away, Seamus managed to set his feather on fire…

He preferred having a set of instructions to follow. That was the reason Harry enjoyed potions so much; unless you weren't paying attention, it was nearly impossible to make a mistake.

He had gotten better around Professor Snape, as well. When the bat-like man wasn't looming over him, Harry found it extremely easy to work. And the professor seemed happy enough to keep away from him.

By the end of the week, Harry found he was surprisingly comfortable at Hogwarts. There was a degree of routine to everything, regardless of how the castle's enchantments worked, which he had embraced with relief. The stability of routine was something that had always kept him out of trouble: at the Dursleys, days where something out of the ordinary happened often resulted in Harry messing something up.

He also was enjoying spending time with Hermione. He worked with her in classes, and the pair could often be found in the library or out on the grounds together. Harry was quite glad that the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were allowed to work together in class, rather than partners being decided for them, or by house. Hermione was easy to work with, and to talk to.

OoO

Midway through the second week, Harry and Hermione were sitting at their usual table in the library, working on a combination of Charms homework and an extra-curricular activity that Hermione had found.

"Harry? Can I ask you something?" Harry looked over at his friend_. _"Why is your eye, well, like _that_? I know you said you hurt it, but it's rather strange…"

He blinked, heart beating a little faster. "It - it just healed that way."

The witch leaned closer, peering at his eye. Harry fought the urge to look down. "Really? Do you have any idea why?"

Harry shrugged, thoroughly uncomfortable with the attention. Hermione looked away for a moment, frowning slightly as she thought.

"Can you still see out of it? The white – it looks like it would mess up your vision."

"I've, ah, never noticed anything about it, really," he said, closing his left eye to check. "No, I can see just fine."

Hermione was silent, clearly thinking it over, and Harry went back to his book, still feeling a little uncomfortable. They worked quietly for a while, and Harry immersed himself in a section about colour-change charms until Hermione spoke again.

"Harry, have you found anything about the roots as the permanent levitation charm? The one's I've checked haven't said anything."

"I haven't been looking for that one, but it might be…somewhere…" he leaned over, searching through her table of contents. "Hm…Try here."

"Oh! It _is_ here! Thank you!" The witch scribbled something down hurriedly before continuing. "I was looking in all the sections about permanent spells, and different levitations." She made a face. "How did you know it was _there_ of all places?"

"Well, it's the same as the Wingardium spell, isn't it?" Harry asked. Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Is it? Where did you find that?"

"Er, nowhere, but it's the same colour. I guess I just figured that meant it was the same kind of spell…"

"Same…colour? In the text?"

Harry regarded her warily. "No… the glimmer of the magic. They're both a really dark red."

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

Confused, Harry gestured at the library books around him, which held just the barest glimmer of white, and when his friend said nothing, grabbed his wand, levitating the parchment before him.

"This. The colour here. It's the magic, isn't it?" He ran his free hand through the red surrounding the parchment.

"I don't see anything, Harry…" Heart beating a little faster now, Harry let the spell drop. He'd always just assumed everyone could see the enchantments on the items around the school, the colour to the magic they used. But obviously Hermione couldn't… Did that mean no one else could?

"I wonder if it has anything to do with your eye…" Hermione mused, looking at him. "Have you asked a teacher about it?" Harry shook his head.

"I – I thought it was… normal," he said quietly, not quite looking at her anymore.

"We have Charms first thing tomorrow. We could ask Professor Flitwick!" she said brightly. Harry looked up in alarm. If this wasn't something everyone could see, Harry wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to bring it up to a teacher. What if this really _did_ make him a freak? He had been starting to feel like he fit in, but-

"I'm sure he'd know about it, or maybe Professor McGonagall would. It's really interesting, though… I wish I could see it!"

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. Hermione nodded eagerly.

"It must make all the spells make so much more sense! Can we talk to one of the professors about it tomorrow, then?"

After a moment of hesitation, Harry nodded. Maybe, just _maybe_ this wouldn't be a bad thing. As they returned to their Charms work, Harry hoped with all his heart that would be the case.

OoO

Both in and out of classes, Harry had been followed around by the redhead he'd met on the train, Ron Weasley. Harry wouldn't say he _disliked_ the boy; he seemed nice, and keen on being friends, but he rather preferred spending time with Hermione. The witch seemed unimpressed with Ron's lack of interest in school-related things, and the two frequently didn't get on well. If asked to choose between the two, Harry would choose Hermione without question, and already he often had. However, there were times in the Gryffindor common room when Harry found himself stuck with the boy, and he wasn't the kind of person who could easily say no to people. All the same, Harry was becoming irritated with the redhead sitting across from him. He had run into him on his way back from the library, and hadn't been able to get away.

He had then agreed to play him in chess, thinking that his limited knowledge of the game would result in a quick loss, and that the Weasley would then leave in search of a better opponent. He'd gotten the first half right: Harry had lost the game within five moves. Ron, however, had decided to try teaching Harry how to play better.

"-And it's good to try to keep a bishop for-"

"Have you ever considered, Ron, that some people-"

"Might not be all that interested in playing chess?"

Harry looked up to see the Weasley twins grinning down. He didn't know them that well - he'd spoken to them only occasionally – but Harry found he looked up to them, in a way. They seemed at ease with the world, and on good terms with near everyone, for the most part. Ron glared at them.

"I'm teaching him how to play better!" he protested. "He doesn't mind!" Both twins raised an eyebrow, mirroring each other. Harry wondered if it was intentional.

"Looks to us-"

"Like he's just being polite."

Harry looked away, blushing slightly. He didn't want to give Ron the wrong idea by disagreeing with the twins, but neither did he want to insult him.

"Thought so. C'mon, Harry."  
>"We have something to show you."<p>

"Can I come?" Ron asked, clearly interested. The twins shook their heads, and he scowled. They looked expectantly at Harry, who, with an embarrassed glance at their brother, rose to follow them.

"Don't worry about Ron," they began once they had left the common room.

"He'll get over it soon enough."

"But he needs to learn-"

"Not to bore people to death."

As they walked, Harry found himself between the two, surprised that he kept pace with them so easily. He was starting to notice a very, _very_ faint touch of magic to the twins themselves, only really visible in the shadows between torches. The one to his left had a slightly yellow tint to his, while the other's was rather more blue. When the latter addressed his twin, Harry made sure to take note of the name.

"Well, Fred, shall we let young Harry in on this trip?"

"Why, yes, George, I think that would be appropriate about now."

The twins turned into the room on the right, Harry trailing behind them uncertainly.

"Now, Harry, this isn't so much something we wanted to show you-"

"As it is something we'd like you to tell us."

Harry looked at the pair warily. They were at least two years ahead of him… What could _he_ have to tell _them_?

"Unless we're much mistaken-"

"And we aren't often-"

"We believe we overheard you describing a sort of shimmer you could see to your clever friend Hermione."

Harry said nothing, now worried that this wasn't something right. But…surely if it weren't, it would be a _teacher_ talking to him about it…. right? Or maybe they were just warning him not to talk to a professor about it, although, Harry didn't know why they would be.

As if reading his thoughts, Fred spoke up. "We don't mean any trouble by it," he assured him.

"But it happens that we may be able to shed some light on the subject."

"You know what it is?" Harry asked shyly.

The twins grinned.

"Yep. It's magic."

"But you'd already worked that out, hadn't you?" Harry nodded.

"We can see it, too." George continued, to Harry's surprise.

"There's a spell you can use to see it," his twin explained, and Harry looked at him curiously.

"It's pretty rare, and a bloody complicated one, too."

"So not too many wizards know about it,"

"Or bother casting it."

"We're guessing you didn't have the spell cast on you,"  
>"So it's interesting to find out that not only can you see magic-"<p>

"But it's some sort of ability, as opposed to the effect of a spell."

"We could teach you about it, if you'd like," George offered.

"It wouldn't be any trouble," Fred added, as Harry opened his mouth.

"In fact, we'll be sorely disappointed if you do turn us down."

Harry gave a shy smile. "Er, all right, then. If you're sure –"

"Brilliant," they chorused, grinning wickedly.

"We'll have to postpone this, though,"

"Because if Filch catches us out of bed after hours, we'll all be in some kind of trouble-"

"And it'll take a while to explain everything."

Harry nodded, following when the twins headed back to the common room.

"Just don't tell Ronnikins," Fred warned as they approached the portrait. "He's the only reason we left the common room to tell you."

"If he hears about it, there'll be no end to it," George agreed.

"We'll find you again next time we're free. Ursa Major." The portrait swung open, and Harry stepped through.

"Night, Harry," the twins said behind him. He turned, poking his head back through the door.

"It's nearly curfew…" he said uncertainly. "Aren't you…?"

"Got someone to meet with." Fred announced in a stage whisper.

"Very hush-hush."

"See you, Harry." With that, the pair headed back down the hallway. Feeling both curious and mildly concerned, Harry moved back into the common room, the portrait closing behind him.

OoOoOoOoO

AN.2: And I must ramble again. XD Only a little, though.

Hope you enjoyed chapter four. If anything needs more time spent on it for clarification, if anything seems rushed to you, or just any issues in general, let me know (because I've got this mapped out in my head, and don't always notice if I've skimmed over something instead of explaining it. XP). I feel so mean, making Harry uncomfortable when talking to 'Mione, when she's the only one he's really at all comfortable talking with…XD

Now, anyone who's reading Lovingly Insulting: I'm sorry for the super long wait for the new chapter! But the story makes me want to hit something at the moment. -_- I've got about half of the chapter done, though, so…

Yours 'till death,

Caelistis


	5. Chapter 5

To See Magic

Chapter 5: In which the Weasley twins shed some light on Harry's sight.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry woke early the next morning. He remained in bed for a while, thinking about everything that had kept him up that night.

The twins knew about the magic. Well, the _visible_ magic. The shock he'd gotten when he'd realized that it wasn't something everyone could see hadn't gone away, although he felt somewhat better knowing that he wasn't the only one. From the sounds of it, though, the twins' sight wasn't common knowledge. Was this something that was supposed to be kept secret? Harry curled up under his blankets. What if a teacher asked him something about it?

With a jolt, Harry remembered that he had agreed to talk to Professor Flitwick with Hermione about it today. He hadn't really _wanted_ to talk about it to begin with, but now… Well, if it was supposed to be a secret, he didn't want to be the one who told everyone. He hoped Hermione wouldn't be upset when he told her.

OoO

Hermione met up with him after breakfast as usual, looking rather more excited for class than usual.

"Are we still going to talk to Professor Flitwick today?"

Harry blushed, his heart beating a little faster as he readied himself to tell her. A part of his mind was scolding him for being so worried about telling the witch that he didn't want to tell their professor today. They _were_ friends, after all, weren't they? Harry had always had a rather difficult time listening to that part of his mind, though.

"A- actually, can we wait, Hermione? I – the twins were talking to me yesterday. They said they know what it is," he admitted, glancing around to see if anyone was listening to them.

Hermione frowned a little. "The Weasley twins?" Harry nodded. "I don't know if I trust them, Harry. They're supposed to be really reckless and silly. I've heard some pretty bad stories from the older students about their pranks…"

"We could talk to Professor Flitwick after, if you want. It's just… they seem to know about it, and I guess I want to know what they have to say about it first?"

Still frowning slightly, Hermione nodded. "All right. I want to come along, too, though, to hear what they have to say."

Harry wasn't entirely sure of what the twins would say to that, but Hermione's tone gave no room for argument. He would just let them meet her when they came, and they could decide from that point.

OoO

For once, Harry was incredibly glad that Professor Flitwick allowed the students to talk amongst themselves as they all practiced. Now that Hermione knew that he could see magic she was practically interrogating him on what was happening with the spell they were working on that day. At the moment, he was warring internally with himself over it. On the one hand, he was relieved that she still seemed all right with this 'ability' that he had, and didn't appear to be viewing him as a freak now. Not that he would have blamed her, really, but he enjoyed and appreciated her friendship. On the other hand, however, he was worried about the rest of the school finding out. If it _wasn't_ normal to be able to see magic, then what would the rest of them say if they knew? He doubted they would all be as kind as Hermione.

Harry watched as the witch jabbed her wand at one of the white teacups in front of her. The edges immediately became a dark blue, but the colour seemed to bleed out before it covered the whole of the cup. His own purple and white cup was much the same, as well as their other pair that sat behind the untouched china.

"Where can you see it on this?" she asked, still frowning a little at the cup, as if it had decided not to colour properly.

"It's all over it, but here," he reached out, his fingers brushing the rim, "there's more. It's like the colour on the cup."

"And you said it's blue?" Harry nodded, and Hermione looked back at her cup. "I wonder why…"

He shrugged, turning back to the next cup when it seemed she had finished her immediate questions.

"_Mutatio_ _coloris." _Harry put more emphasis into the spell this time, focusing on the dark red he wanted. The result was a dusty maroon cup covered in jagged lines of white. It almost looked like cracks in paint. Overall, it was an interesting effect, but not quite what he'd been aiming for. It also didn't look very good with the blue of the magic. Wrinkling his nose slightly, he reached for the next one, deciding on a nice green for it.

By the end of class, he and Hermione had each managed to properly colour six of the ten teacups they had been given. There were a few other ravens that had managed about the same, although the lions seemed to have averaged two or three. Harry was rather pleased with himself, even more so when Professor Flitwick awarded him five house points with all the others who had changed more than half of their cups.

The rest of his classes that day passed in much the same fashion, though Hermione did quiet down once they were in Potions. Harry was glad: he didn't think that Professor Snape would take kindly to their chatter, though undoubtedly that was what Hermione had thought as well. When the bell rang to end class, her questions flowed forth once more.

OoO

Harry hardly saw the Weasley twins through the rest of the week. Judging by the occasional comments he heard from the older students, he wasn't the only one, and from the sound of it, that wasn't exactly good news.

In his house, the opinion seemed to be divided. Some (a great many of whom were the more studious of the lions) were extremely wary upon noticing the twins' quiet. They were the ones who seemed to agree with what Hermione had heard of the pair. The others, for the most part, were eagerly anticipating whatever they cooked up. According to them, the twins were fast on their way to becoming a second Hogwarts legend. Harry wasn't entirely sure where he stood, yet.

It wasn't until Saturday afternoon that the twins sought him out. Harry was (as usual) with Hermione in the library, steadily working through their homework.

"Well, hello there, Harry." Harry twisted around to see the twins.

"Er, hi." He wasn't entirely sure what to say. Ask them if they were going to talk about the magic? Or did they not want to talk about that in the library, given how filled with students it was? The two grinned at him.

"Now, we can see that you two are quite busy,"

"But we'd like to take advantage of the free time we've found."

"You're going to explain about the magic Harry can see?" The twins looked rather amused at Hermione's blunt questioning.

"That we are," Fred said.

"If you'll come with us to a less…"

"_Crowded_ location."

"You are most definitely welcome to come with us, Hermione."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Harry could see that the witch was somewhat reluctant to follow the twins somewhere private. _He_ wasn't overly worried; he had done so before without trouble. The twins also seemed to be the sort who would want an audience (the larger the better) for any sort of trouble they would get up to. Closing his books, he turned back to the twins.

"Where did you want to go?"

"It's a room we found last year."

"Seventh floor. Nothing terribly exciting,"

"But no one's ever up there." Harry looked over at Hermione again. With a sigh, she closed her books.

"All right."

OoO

"Now, this is a really old magic."

"Part of a branch of divination that's almost been forgotten."

Hermione frowned. "How can an entire branch of magic just be _forgotten_?"

"There's loads of magic that's not used anymore. Some of it's just been replaced by simpler spells that do a similar job," Fred explained.

"And then some of them were too complicated, as wizards grew lazier with their magic."

"Course, there's also all the ones that people like Dumbledore decided were 'too extreme'."

"All sorts of spells. Now no one knows about them 'cause they were never taught about them."

"The really old families might know them."

"Purebloods like the Malfoys or the Blacks."

"But that's bringing this more to lineage's place in magic, which isn't what we're after right now."

"Anyway. It's an old divination spell, and, as you know, its purpose is for you to be able to detect magic with the naked eye."

"Most people wouldn't bother with it. Why use a complicated spell when you can see a bright red stunner heading your way without it, right?"

"It's what we thought, at first. But then we wondered why they'd need a spell for that at all."

"After some research, we found out what it really does. The light that everyone sees of spells, the red of a stunner, the green of an AK, that's the energy of the spell. Don't quite know what the colour of _that _means yet."

"The spell lets you see the actual magic. What each spell is made up of, in a way."

"That's the shimmer Harry was talking about?" Hermione asked. The twins nodded.

"Exactly," George agreed. "And not only is it the magic itself, but it makes the school it's from evident."

"The…school?" Harry asked.

"The type of magic it is," George clarified. "Magic is split up into eight schools, or branches."

"Abjuration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, illusion, evocation, necromancy, and transmutation." Fred ticked them off on his fingers. "They're just classifications to categorize magic, make it easier to figure out."

"Much like how a transfiguration spell is different than a defence spell."

Harry looked more closely at the two, taking more note of the shimmer he could see to the twins themselves. "You, ah, I can see a shimmer… on you," he said, unsure. The twins nodded encouragingly.

"It's our magic. It grows as you age,"

"And gets stronger the more you use it,"

"Like a muscle. Which is why ours is brighter."

"The different colours show our affinities."  
>"You mean, the school of magic that you can cast?" Hermione asked, looking intently at them.<p>

"Somewhat…we really just have an easier time with that school."

"We can cast spells from others with just as much power, though."

"It's more something you'd notice through accidental magic, or the like."

"Like when George was little, he stepped on an anthill-"

"They were everywhere. Nasty little buggers. They bite _hard_," George remembered with a shudder.

"I freaked out when I saw him, and all of a sudden, there were these wasps everywhere, and they just started carrying off all the ants."

"The wasps scared the bloody hell out of me, and suddenly the wasps were disappearing, and there were butterflies everywhere."

"Didn't mean too much back then, other than that we had pretty strong magic."

"But now we made the connection. I have an affinity for transmutation, or alteration as it's sometimes called. Magic that changes things."

"And mine's for summoning. Easy enough to figure out."

"Can you see ours?" Hermione asked eagerly. They nodded.

"Yours is red, Hermione. Evocation," Fred informed her.

"It's creating things or effects out of raw magic," his twin added before turning to Harry. "Now, if I'd guessed, I would have said yours was divination, Harry."

"But it looks more like abjuration – protection." They stared at him for a moment, making Harry feel extremely uncomfortable.

"When you look for a minute, though –"

"It's like the two are mixed together – "

"White together with the gold." The twins shrugged.

"It could easily just be because your magic isn't that strong yet," George said.

"Only reason 'Mione's is so obvious is that it's kinda hard to mistake bright red for anything else."

"Anyway, we weren't just telling you this for the hell of it."

"We've been working on learning it ourselves,"

"And were wondering if you, Harry, would be interested in joining us."

"Given that you can see magic without this spell,"

"It would be interesting to see what you can do with others."

"And, of course, you'd be more than welcome to join us, Hermione." Fred added, grinning.

Hermione beamed. "I'd love to!"

"Brilliant!" the twins chorused, turning to Harry. He nodded.

"All right. But – when would we do it? And where? You, ah, you don't seem to want too many people to know about it…"

"Not really," George agreed.

"As for where, well, we've been working here."

"And we figured Saturdays would be the best bet."  
>"We're loathe to give up our weekends,"<p>

"But it's for a good cause."

"Say, one-o-clock?"

Harry and Hermione nodded. The witch looked ecstatic, and Harry was aware of a small smile on his face as well.

George glanced down at his watch briefly, then frowned, looking at it again. He elbowed his twin.

"We've got to go."

"Is it that time already? Huh." The two turned back to the first years across from them.

"Sorry to cut this short,"  
>"But we've got a meeting to get to."<p>

The twins rose, bidding them a 'farewell 'till Saturday' before they left, which Hermione rolled her eyes at.

The two first years didn't rise immediately; sitting in silence for a moment as they thought over this new information. The idea of a completely different sort of magic was intriguing, and Harry privately felt extremely excited at the prospect of learning it. He felt…special, in a way, that the twins had invited him to do so. At the same time, though, Harry felt a twinge of unease at the idea of working on something that seemed to be kept secret even from the teachers. He realized now that the twins hadn't quite said _why_ they wanted it to be kept quiet…

"This is fascinating," Hermione breathed. "I've never even heard of these magics! And just think, it's so many spells, all forgotten."  
>Harry nodded. "It seems a bit like how we – I mean, muggles – have given up things like letter writing, because it's longer and harder to do than using a telephone…"<p>

She hummed in agreement. "I wonder if there would be anything in the library about it…"

"I don't know if there would be. They seem to want to keep this a secret, so…"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "But maybe the restricted section? But that might be what the twins are using…"

Harry smiled over at her. "I don't think _any_ teacher would give them permission to get into the restricted section, 'Mione."

"Hm…that's true," she laughed. "We'll have to ask them when we see them next, then. We should get going, though, Harry. We need to finish our History assignment…" The witch almost looked unhappy at the prospect of finishing her essay, something that Harry found slightly amusing. He nodded, following her out the door.

Neither of them noticed it disappear as they walked back to the library.

OoOoOoOoO

A/N:

Sorry this has been such a while, darlings. I have a long list of excuses, but I daresay you don't really want them. XD However, a large part of it was that I was hit by logic, and was forced to reconsider/rewrite a large portion of Harry's first year. ^.^ And sorry this was so dialogue heavy, but the twins won't let me give them paragraph form explanations. XD

And to those of you thinking it, because I'm sure there are, aha: I'm _not_ making a super!Harry. He is _not_ going to be able to master every type of magic because he's 'just that amazing'. XD Just wanted to throw that out there. Because I know that would start sounding some warning bells if I were reading it. ^.^

A question, though. Would you be interested in a 'chapter' of this which would be a list of the spells they're learning? Explanations of them, and such. Because the document I've been using to keep track of them is rather detailed, and it almost seems silly to keep it hidden away here. So, anyone interested?

Yours 'till death,

Madisson.


End file.
